


I Still Love You in the Present

by WickedlyAwesomeMe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, F/M, OC/OC pairing actually, One-Shot, Past Draco/Hermione, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 18:45:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13254408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedlyAwesomeMe/pseuds/WickedlyAwesomeMe
Summary: "I'm sorry, this may sound really weird, but I think I loved you in my past life." Rory Jones honestly thought it was the lamest pick-up line she had ever heard. Reincarnation Dramione Fic. Non-Magical AU.





	I Still Love You in the Present

**I Still Love You in the Present**

* * *

"Aurora, aren't we beautiful today?"

Aurora, or more commonly known as Rory to her friends, rolled her eyes behind the book she was reading, before lowering it down. "Honestly, Jonathan, I told you to call me 'Rory'," she said, narrowing her honey-colored eyes at her auburn-haired employee.

Jonathan gave her one of his toothy smiles. "Why?" he asked. "Aurora is a beautiful name."

" _Which_ , I told you I don't like being called by," she shot back, grabbing the other books on the desks. "Only my mother calls me that, and she does it when she's mad at me. Besides, I'm the owner of this bookshop. You have to address me with the name that I want."

The handsome young man chuckled and playfully ruffled her bushy hair. "You're really cute, you know that?" he asked, then unburdening her from the pile of books she was hugging to her chest.

"Hey! You can't treat your employer like that," she reprimanded. "I can still fire you anytime I want."

"Mm-hmm, but you won't," Jonathan said with a wave of his hand, before proceeding to return the books to their proper places.

Rory rolled her eyes in exasperation, but couldn't help but fondly smile at him. Rory was forever thankful she had stumbled upon him one time in a coffee shop she frequented, in need of a part-time job. Without him, her work as a bookstore owner of _'Otters and Co.'_ would have perished by now.

 _'_ _Oh honestly,'_ she thought, glaring at the scattered books the customers had left for the day. _'Is it really hard to put them back into place?'_

This was one of the days when she fervently wished she had magic. Her job would be much easier and she could go home earlier every day. But then, magic was just make-believe, a common theme of stories of old.

"Jonathan, go home!" she exclaimed after hours of cleaning up. "It's past 9! I don't want your mother barging in here and demanding to let you home before your curfew."

Said employee grunted and trudged toward her. "Honestly, what am I, _fif_ _teen_?" he asked, throwing his hands in the air. "I can bloody well take care of myself."

"Sixteen, actually," she tutted, mildly amused that despite their age gap, he was already towering her by a good, few inches. "And, you should not use that language in front of me, young man, understand?"

"Yes, Miss Aurora," he said, complete with a sly smirk on his face.

Rory leaned on her desk and knocked him on the head. "It's Ro-ry, you dunderhead," she said with a fond smile on her face. "Now, off you go before big bad wolves come out to get Baby Jonathan!"

"I'm not a baby anymore, honestly!" he exclaimed, as he grabbed his cloak and bag and marched out of the bookstore. "Bye, Rory, see you tomorrow!" He looked back and gave her a toothy grin before finally disappearing into the busy streets of London.

She shook her head and grinned. That boy would one day break a lot of hearts, she was sure of it. Chuckling under her breath, Rory finally grabbed her things and took one last look at her beloved bookstore. Satisfied that everything was in place, she then walked out and locked the door.

"Time to go home, then," she told no one.

* * *

_There was a woman, knees on the ground, dirtied and worn as if she were in a battle. Her honey-colored eyes were big and round and dewy with tears, but there was resolution in her eyes. Then a pale, trembling hand, which was holding a weird, long stick, pressed its tip against her forehead, prompting her to closer her eyes._

_"_ _Draco, please."_

_There were soft, muttered gasps, and the wielder of the stick was undeniably crying._

_"_ _Avada Kedavra."_

Rory jerked awake, remnants of green light still blinding her eyes. Sweat was pouring down from her forehead and loud, rasping gasps tore away from her mouth. She felt like she ran a mile, what with the crazy beating of her heart and her breathlessness.

 _'_ _That dream again,'_ she thought, slowly sitting up from the couch to grab her abandoned hot chocolate. She made a face, noting it was already cold from neglect, but finished it nonetheless.

A soft, furry, orange thing suddenly jumped onto the couch and curled on her lap. "Hello, Cookie," she said, scratching the back of her cat, which purred in satisfaction. "I had that weird dream once again."

Rory wiped her brow with the sleeves of her pajama and sighed. Her recurring dream, of her on her knees, crying her eyes out, and seeing blinding green light, had plagued her for years. Perhaps, it had started, when she was eleven years old. Her mother used to tell her how she weirdly eyed the owls of their eccentric neighbor, Mr. Richardson, and kept on muttering that she was expecting a letter that never arrived.

Her mother thought she was demented for a while. Rory had been through a lot of psychiatrist, trying to seek for the answers of her weird dream. Doctors always told them it was normal for children to dream weird images and that Rory was merely a bright, little thing, who was too imaginative for her own good.

They came to accept that she was a little strange. The dreams had subsided for some time, but they sometimes came back. Lately, however, the recurring dream visited her often and it was honestly a bother.

"Crazy Rory is back, Cookie," she lamented, languidly standing up from her couch and frowned at the mess she made. She may have been careful with handling books, but she was a lazy arse at home. If her mother saw her right now, she would never hear the end of it.

Frustrated, she grabbed her spoon, a bit of liquefied ice cream dripping to the carpeted floor. She fancied herself into thinking it was a wand and childishly waved it around her room. She truthfully half-expected everything to clean by itself, but of course, this was the reality, and in the reality, there was no magic.

 _'_ _If anybody hears me right now,'_ she prayed to the cosmic beings above, _'Please give me magic in my next life, thank you very much.'_

Then, without the use of magic, Rory finally stacked the plates and other utensils and brought them to her sink.

* * *

It was a Sunday afternoon, and it meant some me-time for Aurora Jones. With a new soft-bound tucked under her armpit, she pushed the door of the coffee shop open. The smell of coffee instantly teased her nose and she couldn't help but take a deep breath. Although she loved the smell of old books the best, the smell of coffee was a close second.

She dreamt of building a house with a huge library filled with books. It was weird to build her own coffee shop inside her dream house, so she opted to buy as many coffee-scented candles as she could. She had seen in tumblr how developers were also making old book-scented candles, so that would suffice for now.

"Rory, right on time!"

"Hello, Chris," she said, striding closer to the counter. "One caramel macchiato please with no – "

"Whipped cream, I know," he said with a wink. "I'll give it to a you in a sec."

She grinned brightly. "Thanks, Chris, you're the best," she said, prompting the balding coffee shop owner to return her smile with his own.

As she claimed her usual place, Rory immersed herself in a book she had been itching to read after seeing raving reviews online. It was about a throne, and kings and queens fighting one another, and dragons, and a lot of complicated stuff. Rory absolutely loved it and couldn't wait to finish the whole series.

"One caramel macchiato for the pretty lass," Chris then said, placing her drink in front. Then, he placed a plate of a single chocolate cookie. "And this one's on the house."

"Really, Chris, you always indulge me," she said, but smiled at him in thanks nonetheless.

"You're one of my favorite customers," he replied. "Of course I'll indulge you." He glanced at the book she was reading and lifted an eyebrow. "Another new one?"

Rory nodded. "I've already finished the last one."

"Why do I even bother asking this bookworm?" he asked, making a huge show of rolling his eyes. "Anyway, I won't be bothering your me-time for now. If you need something, just call me out, okay?"

"Yes, Yes, Chris, thank you," she said, and shooed him away.

Hours passed by and she was still thoroughly immersed in the book she was reading. The plot was intense, with twists that had made her choke on her coffee one too many times. The characters were so gripping, but a lot of them die off easily. Rory had learned early in the book that getting attached to a character was a bad, _bad_ thing, because the next thing she knew, they were killed off, and she had to try her best to hold in her tears.

Such was her concentration she wasn't able to hear the chair opposite her being occupied.

"I'm sorry, this may sound really weird, but I think I loved you in my past life," a deep voice claimed, disturbing her from her reading.

Rory was startled for a while, trying to digest the words spoken to her, before snorting in amusement. "That is honestly the lamest pick-up line I've ever heard in my life," she retorted, humor in her voice, before finally putting the book aside. Opposite her sat a handsome man, probably the same with her age, with the most impossibly pale hair she had ever seen. His eyes were grey and determined; his jaw tight and serious.

Knitting her eyebrows, Rory grew confused. "Wait… _you're_ serious?"

The man blinked, realizing he was staring, before clearing his throat. "I must confess, but I'm not really good at pick-up lines to begin with," he said, unable to keep his eyes off her.

Briefly, Rory saw a flash of the familiar, blinding green light and she gasped.

"Is everything all right, Miss?" he asked, worry in his eyes.

She looked at him contemplatively, trying to gauge if she had ever seen him before. There was something definitely _off_ about this man, but she could not, for the life of her, pinpoint what it was. He was honestly suspicious and the news always warned people to be careful nowadays due to the increasing number of crimes being committed.

"Do I know you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at the suspicious man. Silently, she rummaged for her pepper spray, just in case the need for it arose.

"I told you, in my past life," he seriously replied. " _Our_ past lives."

"Look, Mister, I don't know what drugs you'd been using, but I would very much appreciate it if you vacate my table," she warned, pepper spray now grasped tightly in her hand.

"Rory," Chris suddenly called from his counter, "is everything all right?"

She looked at Chris, who was suspiciously looking at the stranger, and gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay," she called back. "You don't need to worry."

Chris still gave the strange man a weird look, before nodding and finally returning to cleaning the glasses.

"I…" the man spoke once more, getting her attention. "I'm suspicious, aren't I?"

Rory released an unladylike snort. "Frankly?" she claimed. "Yes."

He sighed and ran a hand through his silky, blond hair. Rory eyed it with envy, before glaring at her brown curls. Her hair had always been the bane of her existence, and she would very much want it if she would get rid of them in her next life. _Not_ that she was believing the crap this stranger kept on saying.

"I'm sorry," he said, finally lifting his hand in defense. "I… I knew it was a bad idea to approach you, I'm sorry." He sighed, before standing up from his seat. "I… see you around, I guess." And then, he turned and left the coffee shop.

"Weirdo," she muttered under her breath.

For the rest of her stay, she could not shake off the eyes and the hair of the mysterious man who approached her.

* * *

"Earth to Rory."

The brunette furiously blinked her eyes then smacked Jonathan's hand away. She scowled before vigorously signing the papers she had at hand. The memory of the stranger in the coffee shop days before had plagued her, even during her working hours, and it was starting to become bothersome.

"What has gotten into you?" Jonathan asked, eyeing his employer as if she was demented. "You've been zoning out for an awful lot of times today."

She blushed, embarrassed at being caught, then looked away. "Nothing," she hastily said, "Go back to work, or I'll cut your salary in half."

The younger of the two rolled his eyes. "Must you always be so harsh on me, Rory?" he asked, hand on his heart. "I've been working my ass off, even missing a few of my classes, just so I can help you in this lovely bookstore of yours."

Rory chuckled. "Don't blame me for your laziness," she shot back, prompting him to stick out his tongue. "Your schedule here has no conflicts with your morning classes. Ditching your classes are solely your fault."

Jonathan waved his hand dismissively and leaned on the counter. "But, seriously, Rory, is everything all right?" he asked, eyebrows knitting in worry. "Zoning out isn't you, and it makes me worry."

Her heart swelled a little at this young man she came to regard as her little brother. She had been an only child, and to have someone she cared about like a sibling made her a little happy. "Nothing, really," she lied, perfect with a brilliant smile.

However, this only made his eyes narrow more. "Aurora," he seriously said.

She made a face, before finally sighing in defeat. Then, she cleared her throat, and with a deeper voice, she leaned closer to Jonathan and said, "I'm sorry, this may sound really weird, but I think I loved you in my past life."

Jonathan stared at her, wide-eyed, before bursting into loud, boisterous laughter. Tears of humor streamed down his face and he had to brace himself on the counter to keep himself off from toppling. "What the bloody hell was that?" he demanded. She didn't bother reprimanding him for his words as she was busy chuckling madly at his reaction, too. "That is the lamest pick-up line I've ever heard."

"Exactly!" she cried, smacking her right hand on the tabletop. "I met this guy in the coffee shop I frequented a few days before and told me the exact same thing I said to you."

The teenager eyed her with newfound interest. "I smell a coffee shop romance budding," he teased, prompting her to blush.

"Don't be ridiculous, he was a _weirdo_ ," she protested, willing the blood on her cheeks to subside. "Besides, I drove him away and he apologized."

Jonathan looked confused. "He apologized?" he inquired. "For what? The lame pick-up line?"

"He apologized for bothering me, and then left."

He still looked thoroughly confused. " _Wait_ ," he said. "Are you telling me he was serious?"

Rory sighed, before shaking her head. "I don't really know him at all, but I could tell what he said wasn't a joke," she said, frowning once more as she recalled that particular memory. "Honestly, who still even believes in past lives? From the books I've read, there was still no proof of such phenomenon."

"Trust Rory to rely on her precious books," Jonathan drawled, making a huge show of rolling his eyes. "What a creep, though."

"Right?" she said, involuntarily shivering as she remembered the brief flash of the blinding green light she saw while looking at the strange blond.

Jonathan looked suddenly serious. "You must be careful, Rory," he warned. "From what I've heard in the news, crimes are rampant nowadays. I mean, I don't doubt your prowess and all that jazz, but you know. It won't hurt to be careful."

"Aww, baby Jonathan is worried for Crazy Rory," she said, fondly tapping his cheek, much to his annoyance. "Don't worry, I think my craziness will be enough to drive them away."

The younger of the two snorted. "No wonder you're still single," he pointed out.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded, deeply affronted.

"Rory, you're _old_ ," he stated matter-of-factly. "But you always attract weirdos. Maybe you're doomed to singlehood."

"Hey, I'm _twenty-five_ , that isn't old," she shot back, glaring at Jonathan. "Besides, I'm single and happy and I don't need a man to complete me."

"That's what bitter singles say," he shot back, and had to duck away before he got hit by Rory's heavy hands.

"I hate you!" she cried, but Jonathan merely chuckled away.

Sighing, Rory allowed herself to smile, and returned to work.

Hours ticked by, customers came and went, and Rory was already exhausted for the day. Summer was coming up and she was pleasantly surprised that more and more people were buying books to perhaps read for the vacation. Technology had vastly improved, and most people were already relying on their gadgets to read. Paperbacks were steadily becoming unpopular, and Rory worried for her quaint bookstore.

"MOTHER OF - !"

"Jonathan!" she exclaimed, jogging to the place where she heard Jonathan's shout. Upon arriving, she saw her employee sprawled on the ground, clutching his right arm, with books strewn around and the ladder broken beyond repair.

"Hello, Rory," he said, grimacing in pain.

Rory sighed and crouched down to inspect his injury. "I told you not to use that rickety ladder anymore," she reprimanded.

"I love it when you become all mothery to me, Rory, but I think I broke my arm," he replied.

"Oh, Jonathan," she sighed once more. "Come. I'll bring you to the hospital."

* * *

She waited in the hospital corridors until Jonathan was tended to. She was considerably less worried when the teenager still kept on constantly babbling while she brought him to the hospital. Thankfully, he wasn't able to hurt his head; she suspected his mother would be less vicious on her if only Jonathan's arm was injured.

Sighing, Rory leaned her head against the hospital wall and closed her eyes.

* * *

_She was in a strange, comfortable room, with a roaring hearth, plush couches, and a nice coffee table. She curled against one of the comfy couches and took a deep breath, leaning her head against its armrest._

_She felt strangely relaxed, the crackling of fire lulling her to sleep, when a door suddenly burst open. Gasping, Rory blinked in shock at the wall. She was quite sure there wasn't any in the first place and had wondered where it came from._

_In came a tall person; judging from his stance and built, it was a man. But, she couldn't see his face._

_"_ _You came," she found herself saying._

 _"_ _Hello, Hermione."_

* * *

Rory jerked awake, thoroughly confused.

 _'_ _That was new,'_ she thought, running a hand through her tired face. She was quite sure it was her in that dream, but she was wearing strange clothes, in a strange room, with a strange companion. _'And who the hell was Hermione?'_

Before she could dwell more on her strange dream, one of the doors in the hospital opened.

"Guardian to Jonathan Wilkes?"

"That would be me," she exclaimed, quickly standing up from the bench. As her eyes connected with the person who called for her, her jaw dropped in disbelief. " _You_."

Opposite her stood the same man in the coffee shop. This time, he was wearing a long white coat, with a stethoscope slung across his neck. He had a clipboard at hand and was busily scanning it when he called for her. When his eyes connected with hers, however, his eyes widened.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she lamely asked, too dumbfounded to even comprehend her question.

He lifted a perfectly arched eyebrow and smirked. "I believe I work here," he said, gesturing at his uniform.

Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment and she looked away. "Err… right," she said. "I can see that."

Silence heavily sat between the two of them. Rory half expected to see the blinding green light once more and took a terrified step back. But then, before her mind's eye, she felt the roaring hearth in her dream and she shakily took a sharp intake of breath.

Who was this man and what was he doing to her?

"Mister Wilkes is ready to be discharged," he then said, snapping her off from her stupor.

Rory willed her mind to get back to the present and shook her strange dream away. "I…"

"Rory, you're still here!" Jonathan wailed as he threw the door open and walked out. His right arm was in a cast, with a sling slung over his neck to stabilize the injury. "Look, you can write on my arm." He looked horribly cheery for a person who just broke his right arm.

The doctor was looking at her curiously, and she felt a blush creep up her neck.

"Glad to see that you're well, Jonathan," she said, hastily jogging towards the younger, taller man and unconsciously hid behind him. The teenager looked down at her in curiosity, before shrugging his shoulders, and looked back at his doctor.

"Thank you, Doctor Blythe," he amicably said. "I'll be sure to take the medications you prescribed."

Rory peeked from Jonathan's behind and saw the doctor stiffly nod his head. Their eyes met briefly, prompting her to look away, and she only returned her gaze at him when she heard his fading footsteps.

"What's gotten into you?" Jonathan suspiciously asked, frowning down at the bushy-haired bookstore owner.

She breathlessly clutched onto his uninjured arm. "It's him," she professed, eyes wide and heart beating too wildly.

"Who?"

"The weirdo with the lame pick-up line," she simply explained.

Jonathan's jaw dropped, before he burst into loud, disbelieving laughter. Some of the nurses and patients eyed reproachfully and Rory had to shush him up in order to save themselves from embarrassment.

" _Seriously_?" he asked, still clearly in disbelief. "That stiff, serious doctor? I thought for a moment he was a robot fixing my fracture, because let's face it, that is highly likely in this advance world. He doesn't show any emotions like a normal human being, it was eerily _creepy_."

Rory frowned, reminiscing of the strange weirdo in the coffee shop, and he looked undoubtedly frazzled and very much human. "It was him, I'm telling you," she shot back in a whisper, allowing Jonathan to direct her out of the hospital.

Jonathan merely chuckled, and Rory was indigant.

It was him. She was sure of it.

* * *

It was thankfully a lazy afternoon, with less customers in the quaint _Otters and Co._ Jonathan had taken the time off for the week, his mother insisting that he stopped working for a while and wait for his fracture to heal. Since it was sudden, Rory couldn't find a suitable replacement for her part-time employee.

She was admittedly bored. With no Jonathan to pester her, she had nothing else to do. She didn't feel like reading today and she was debating whether to close earlier than the usual closing hours. Rory was itching to binge watch a series she had downloaded, and thought today might be the perfect time to do so.

Rory perked up a little when the little bell above her door jingled, signaling a new customer. "Pleasant morning to you!" she explained with false cheeriness, silently praying that the customer would be quick in looking for a book and leaving. She had already decided he or she would be her last customer before she closed her bookstore.

"Pardon me, but do you have some medical books here?"

She internally scowled, annoyed that she was being bothered. Sighing, she waved her hand at the general vicinity where her little bookshop kept the books he needed.

"Thank you," he replied.

Rory didn't bother answering him back, and instead lazily leafed through her beloved _Anne of Green Gables_. She could read a few pages until the customer left, she decided.

A soft cough from in front startled her off her reading. Glaring at the customer, she lifted her eyes to tell him off. But then, the words left her mouth completely when she saw Jonathan's doctor standing in front of her.

"You," she said, almost suspiciously.

The doctor, who was now wearing a long-sleeved polo and slacks with his white coat slung across his arm, nervously fiddled with his collar. "I didn't expect that you'd treat your customers with such… _vehemence_ ," he said, a small smirk growing on his face.

Rory openly scowled now, not in the bloody mood to be made fun of. "Well, I'm sorry, _Dr. Blythe_ ," she snapped, prompting the doctor to lift a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"I see someone is in a bad mood," he said, that annoying smirk still on his face. Instead of journeying towards the area where Rory kept the medical books, his long legs brought him closer to the counter.

"Why do we always bump into each other?" she asked, nose high up in the air. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're following me, _Weirdo_."

He looked highly amused at her name-calling. "If you are insinuating that I am stalking you, Miss, then you'll be severely disappointed," he gravely said, mock seriousness in his eyes. "How about your bookstore is in the same area as the hospital I am working in? This street is terribly small, don't you think? It shouldn't come as a surprise our paths will cross often."

She was annoyed with him and his snarky attitude. A myriad of insults sat at the tip of her tongue, and Rory was ashamed to think most of them were downright petty. She was saved from embarrassing herself when the little bell above her door tinkled once more.

Rory almost cried in relief upon seeing Jonathan, right arm still broken and a charming smile on his face. "Hey, Rory, I thought of dropping by because I can sense that you missed me," he said, jogging closer to the counter. But then, upon seeing that she was currently speaking with a customer, he skidded into a halt. Squinting his eyes, however, he finally recognized his doctor. "Dr. Blythe!"

The doctor stiffly nodded his head, then excused himself to browse through the medical books.

"Why is he here?" Jonathan asked in a low whisper, darting suspicious looks at his doctor.

"More importantly is, why are _you_ here?" she shot back, voice in a normal volume. Dr. Blythe looked over at them and she lifted a challenging eyebrow at him. He merely smirked then returned to his perusal. "Your mother specifically told you to take some rest."

"I'm not a child," he scowled yet again. "Besides, I just came from the hospital for a check-up with him." He jutted his thumb at the busy blond. "Little bugger left early because he had 'some things to do', but lo and behold, he'd rather look for books than treat his patient." He looked quite put-out and scowled at his doctor.

Rory, on the other hand, curiously looked at the doctor once more. Her accusation of stalking became more feasible. As if on instinct, she fingered her pepper spray.

"Don't be all chummy to him, Rory," he warned under his breath. "The nurses call him 'The Dragon' because he breathes fire when he's angry. And let me tell you it is most of the time."

Jonathan quickly straightened up when Dr. Blythe strode forward. Rory, however, was reeling. She even barely noticed that her customer bought a whooping five tomes of thick, medical books that undoubtedly cost a fortune. All she could hear were Jonathan's words, or more specifically, the nickname of the doctor.

 _'_ _The Dragon,'_ a voice whispered, snippets of memories that weren't hers swirling in her mind. She mechanically punched his books, got his money, and barely registered it when the doctor thanked her and said his goodbye.

It was only when he was about to get out of the bookshop when a particular name came into her mind. "Draco," she uttered, head already throbbing with a pounding headache. "Draco."

A brief flash of green passed through her eyes while the blond whipped around so fast, she swore his neck cricked.

"What did you just call me?" he demanded, face paler and eyes wide and wild. He was panting and Rory took a few steps back, hand clutched to her heart.

"N-nothing," she lied, shaking her head to clear her mind. The turmoil inside her brain had ebbed, but there was a dull aching in her heart now, and Rory was definitely confused. "I… err… goodbye, Dr. Blythe."

His steely eyes pierced her through the core. And briefly, Rory thought she saw an emotion welling up in him. Was it desperation? _Longing_? But the moment had quickly passed, and Dr. Blythe was back on being emotionless. He then nodded his head and walked away. Rory had this irrational silent plea for him to look back.

Sadly, he didn't.

* * *

The month flew by without any disturbances from Dr. Blythe. Rory breezed through her job in a daze, barely registering what was happening in her environment. At night, however, she was plagued with vivid dreams of a brunette and a blond, a war, and a green light. They always left Rory in a state of shock and inexplicable grief, robbing her off from the sleep that she badly needed.

Jonathan soon came back, with his arm already healed, and he noticed the manifestations of Rory's insomnia.

"I think you need to go to a doctor," he meaningfully said, sitting on the counter despite Rory's withering glare.

"I've had my fair share of shrinks when I was young," she deadpanned, shuffling through her record book to see if she had missed anything. "I'd rather not go through them anymore. All they would say anyway is that 'I'm too imaginative for my own good'. Loads of bollocks, if you ask me."

She refused to look at Jonathan's concerned gaze and busied herself with her work. Managing _Otters and Co._ was a nice distraction, but it always left her utterly tired by the end of the day.

The week went by and it was Sunday once more. She debated whether to have her weekly me-time in her favorite coffee shop or just stay at home. Her small flat was filled with memories that plagued her still, and she decided being away from her home for a while would do her some good.

Tucking another book to read, she entered the coffee shop, greeted Chris, and sat down on her usual chair.

Rory found herself reading a paragraph again and again for ten minutes before finally giving up, and putting the book aside. Instead, she unseeingly looked at the passing cars and bustling people, somehow comforted with how oblivious the world was with her current, inner turmoil.

"Fancy seeing you here."

She flinched, involuntarily scowling, and looked at the newcomer. Out of all the people she didn't want to see, it was Dr. Blythe she wanted to avoid the most. Somehow, she blamed him for all the sudden flashbacks of memories she swore never happened and the weird, gripping emotions she felt. She still couldn't place where he came in in all of the craziness she was enduring, and would very much like it if he would just leave her alone.

Which she voiced out loud, prompting him to raise an eyebrow. Instead of leaving, he invited himself to sit on the opposite chair and peered at her face curiously.

"You aren't sleeping well," he pointed out.

Rory snorted in an unlady-like manner. "Thanks for stating the obvious, _Captain Obvious_ ," she muttered, running a tired hand through her face.

"Having weird dreams lately?" he smoothly asked, calmly drinking from the cup of Earl Grey tea he ordered.

She looked at him suspiciously. She sure as hell knew she hadn't said a peep about her weird dreams to anyone, save from Jonathan, who currently treated her like she would break soon and never raised the issue. This stranger, _however_ , had the gall to make stupidly accurate assumptions and it was getting to her nerves already.

"What the bloody hell do you want from me?" she snapped under her breath. Her head was aching from lack of sleep and her odd dreams, and she wanted to rest.

"I don't know what you mean," he simply replied, still with a mask of indifference she envied and hated at the same time.

Rory sighed and leaned closer. "You've obviously done something to me," she shot back. "Ever since you disturbed me with your lame pick-up line, things hadn't been going smoothly for me. It's like you've put a… a…"

"Spell?" he offered, cracking a small smirk.

"Yes!" she cried, bordering hysterical.

"I didn't take you as someone believing in magic," he said, looking highly amused now.

Rory made a huge show of rolling her eyes. "I don't believe in that crap," she snapped. "I maybe a bookworm, but I could still distinguish fiction from reality, you dunderhead. You… you know what I mean. You're a blasted doctor. Maybe you're carrying a… a virus or something."

It was the lamest thing she had ever said and Rory wished she could just shut her mouth up, shrivel, and bury herself in the ground. The doctor obviously looked amused with her antics, and Rory now regretted going out in the first place.

"I'm having dreams, too." It wasn't the reply she expected, prompting her jaw to drop and her eyes to widen.

"W-what?"

"I _told_ you," he insisted. "It sounded quite frankly weird, but I think… no, _I believe_ I loved you in my past life. How do you think I came into that conclusion?"

Rory knew she looked like a fish caught out of the sea, but she didn't think about her appearance right now. All she could register were his words, and how absurd they sounded.

"I know it's unbelievable," Dr. Blythe reassured, his molten eyes softening a great deal that made her heart skip a beat. "Believe me, as a man of science, I bloody well thought I was off my rocker." He pierced her with his gaze once more and Rory couldn't look away. "But then, on that Sunday afternoon, as I strolled in this very same coffee shop and saw you sitting here on the very same table, the face of the girl I kept on dreaming about became as clear as the Sunday sky and…"

He left his words hanging and Rory could feel heat rising up from her neck.

"If… if you're messing with me, I-I'm going to _kill_ you," she snarled, a myriad of emotions swirling in her heart.

For the very first time, she saw Dr. Blythe smile. "You always had a sharp tongue," he said. "My past self is happy that trait of yours never left you."

"You're demented," she said, shaking her head and making her curls whip wildly around her face. "Off your rocker. _Bloody mad_."

"You view your dreams with fear," he said. "Accept them for once, maybe tonight, and everything might be clear to you for once."

With that, he left, and Rory became all the more confused.

* * *

His words kept on ringing in her mind as she finally decided to go to bed.

 _'_ _You view your dreams with fear. Accept them for once, maybe tonight, and everything might be clear to you for once.'_

She would be lying if she said she wasn't terrified of her dreams. The first dream she ever had, of her dying in the hands of a pale hand clutching a long stick, had scared her as a child. With the dreams increasing, Rory felt more dreadful and scared, and had always wished for the dreams to go away.

Sighing, she thought it wouldn't harm her if she cleared her mind and heart for tonight, and follow Dr. Blythe's orders.

As soon as she closed her eyes, sleep consumed her.

* * *

_She found herself in the same room she had dreamt about before. The fire was blazing with warmth and the couches looked inviting, but there were silent tears of defeat, of grief, of_ longing _streaming down from her face._

 _"_ _If you walk out of this room today, Draco, you've already chosen your side," she said, voice thick with the reality they were in._

 _The man she was talking to, the blond,_ Draco _, had his back facing her. But Rory saw that he was trembling like a leaf, and wished he would just turn around and show his face to her._

 _"_ _I'm sorry, Hermione," he replied, voice low and thick with agony and tears._

 _His voice and answer had stabbed her heart with unimaginable pain. Rory – or_ Hermione _? – clutched her pained heart and bowed her head. "Do you believe in reincarnation, Draco?" she found herself asking._

_The man neither turned around nor acknowledge her question, and so she continued._

_Striding closer until she was mere inches away from him, she continued, "I hope, if we ever see each other again in our next life, you will recognize me." Rory wiped her tears away. "I wish you won't push me away again. I wish you won't bottle everything up and believe you're alone in any problems you are battling. I wish we can love each other freely, with no sides to choose, no heavy responsibilities to burden us. I-I wish…"_

_Her voice broke and she took a deep breath, trying to steady her aching heart. "I wish… I wish we didn't have to hide our love to the world, scared of the consequences of what it may bring."_

_Rory saw him clutching his hands into tight fists and swore his shaking intensified._

_"_ _You sound as if we will not be surviving this war," he uttered._

_Rory shakily laughed, both of grief and exhaustion, and wiped her tears away. "Nothing is certain in this war, Draco," she whispered._

_The blond, Draco, then slowly turned around and Rory peered at his face. Like her previous dreams, it was blurred, but she could see a familiar ghost of a smile on his face._

_Slowly, he lifted a shaking, pale hand and almost touched her cheek. She felt him brush one of his fingers against her skin and she shivered, and then he let his hand fall back onto his side._

_"_ _Goodbye, Hermione."_

_It was like a huge fog was lifted off from her muddled mind. Draco's face became clearer and clearer and Rory recognized the eyes, and the nose, and that smirky little mouth of his._

* * *

Rory woke up with a gasp. Her eyes were wet and burning with the tears she had shed in her sleep, and she could still feel the remnants of Hermione's grief. The memory of Draco, of _Dr. Blythe_ , resurfaced in her mind and she couldn't help but to release loud, guttural sobs of confusion, despair and… _relief_.

Burying her face against her palms, Rory didn't know what to do.

* * *

"Do you have some appointment with Dr. Blythe today?"

"No."

"Then, I don't think he will see you today," the nurse dismissed.

"Wait, please… you have to tell him, I'm here," Rory pleaded, utter desperation on her face.

The nurse eyed her with suspicion, especially noting the dark bags and the redness of her eyes. Rory knew she looked terribly; after her _enlightening_ dream last night, she barely slept a wink. It was impulsive of her to ditch working today and instead march to the hospital to meet the weirdo that had plagued her dreams.

"Just tell him Rory Jones is here to see him, please," she said, disregarding the fact that she was pleading. Rory was desperate to see him, to demand some answers that her curious mind coveted.

The nurse still eyed her strangely, before slightly nodding her head, and disappearing into Dr. Blythe's office.

A full minute passed before she walked out, clear surprise on her face. "He said you can come in," she said, disbelief in her tone of voice.

Rory muttered her thanks and burst inside. The doctor was seated on his swiveling chair and eyed her curiously when she entered.

"Rory Jones, what a surprise," he drawled, complete with the infamous smirk on his face.

She stared at him and felt her heart sting with the grief her past self felt. Humor on his face completely disappeared, replaced with genuine worry that made her heart sting all the more.

"I'm sorry, this may sound really weird, but I think you killed me in my past life."

* * *

He brought her in the hospital rooftop for some peace and privacy. _"The walls have ears,"_ he had joked, and Rory wondered how gossip spread here in the hospital. The nurses were willing to gossip with Jonathan before, so she had this inkling the fact that Dr. Blythe saw someone without an appointment would be the topic of conversation in the nurses' station.

The hospital rooftop was decorated with a quaint, little garden. Rory's eyes almost popped out of their socket when she saw a duck pond, with real, life ducks quacking about. It was terribly ostentations, but she must admit that the rooftop brought some calmness to her troubled heart. Judging from the filled trash cans scattered around, she deduced that this place was usually frequented with visitors, patients, and perhaps doctors like Dr. Blythe alike.

They were now seated on a lovely bench with a clear view of the duck pond. Rory focused on the little duck family, nervously aware of the blond man sitting beside her. He left a decent space between the two of them, but she still felt hyperaware of him, of his warmth, his scent… She furiously blushed and looked away, cursing her past self for reacting to this man.

"I see you finally remembered me," he said, his deep voice disturbing the peaceful small garden.

Rory shot him a quick look before looking back at the pond. "It wasn't hard forgetting that smirky, pale face of yours," she murmured back, pocketing her suddenly cold and clammy hands.

At the corner of her eyes, she saw him widely smirk. "The fiery, Gryffindor princess," he said, almost too proudly, and she scowled.

"Don't call me that," she snapped. "I'm neither a Gryffindor nor a princess." She scowled; she was still coming into terms that magic was definitely, truly real and she used to be hailed as the 'brightest witch of her age'. It was disconcerting for the avid bookworm, to know that the fantasy she used to imagine herself in was actually true.

"Isn't it weird?" he asked. "To be reborn as Muggles?"

Rory knitted her eyebrows. "A what?" she asked.

Dr. Blythe looked at her and smiled. "Non-magical beings," he casually replied. "I do believe Draco had a certain… _opinion_ about us."

 _"_ _Nobody asked you, you filthy, little mudblood."_

The brunette rolled her eyes, the image of a small Draco insulting a small Hermione suddenly resurfacing in her mind. "This is terribly cliché," she said, bordering whiny. "I mean, enemies turned to lovers… two star-crossed lovers with a tragic ending. Heck, Romeo and Juliet will be envious of our story."

The doctor chuckled and nodded his head. "That is actually quite true," he answered.

Silence settled and a question popped into Rory's mind. She refused to ask it, too afraid of the answer she would receive, but the question had festered and made her head hurt. In the end, she finally relented, and blurted out, "Why did you kill me?"

All the humor left his face as his steely, grey eyes gazed at her. Rory felt her cheek redden with embarrassment and mortification, and hastily added, "I mean, why did Draco kill Hermione?"

"You haven't remembered?" he asked, voice oddly stiff and strained.

Rory merely shook her head, prompting Dr. Blythe to sigh.

"I think it is safe to assume you knew there was a war, yes?" he asked. He waited until she nodded her affirmation, then continued, "Draco and Hermione were on two different sides. I think… I was in the Bad Side, and you in the Light, and my side was winning."

"Harry Potter died," she slowly said, realization dawning. Her heart panged a little with grief, and knew it was her past life's emotions for her best friend. "I remember."

"Yeah," Dr. Blythe said. "The Dark Lo – _Voldemort_ wanted to gather all the survivors and _well_ , you were still alive and you knew you'll die anyway."

He stopped speaking as Rory digested his words. Eyes widening and jaw dropping, she whipped her face at him like the speed of light. "I asked you to kill me," she said, not even bothering in correcting that it was _Hermione_ who asked _Draco_ to kill him. The information had almost burst her head and she clutched it tight in hopes of easing the pain.

"Are you quite all right, Rory?" he asked, worriedly peering at her.

"Holy _shite_ ," she breathed, face considerably paling from shock. "That is the most devastating plot twist I've ever heard."

The doctor sadly smiled and nodded his head. "She wanted to die in his hands, just to keep her dignity intact, I presume," he thought, sounding a tad bitter from the past circumstances. "I think Hermione failed to think of what it would do to Draco."

Rory scowled, deeply offended for her past self. "Hey, she _knew_ ," she retorted. "But she also knew that Draco is smart enough to know of what would happen to her if some other Death Eaters found her _alive_."

It made her triumphant when he was reduced to silence. She actually made sense, after all, and judging from the snippets of Hermione's encounters with Death Eaters, Rory knew her fate would be horrific if it wasn't Draco who found her alive.

"What happened then?" she then asked.

"What do you mean?"

"After Draco killed Hermione," she expounded. "About Voldemort? The Death Eaters? The Wizarding World?"

Dr. Blythe wryly smiled and shrugged his head. "I don't honestly know," he said. "Draco killed himself after."

She thought the the news of asking Draco to kill her was the most absurd thing she had ever heard in this strange phenomenon between her and the doctor. Apparently, she thought wrong, and felt her mouth dry up in surprise and that stupid, stupid grief.

"Oh," she spoke breathlessly, feeling like an idiot.

"I died and that is all you can say?" he asked, an amused grin on his face. Rory scowled, thinking it was unfair that he could still look flawlessly handsome despite being an annoying git.

"Glad to see you reincarnated now, eh?" she snapped back, merely prompting him to smile wider. "And look at _you_. A Muggle doctor."

Dr. Blythe hummed in agreement, then stared off at the duck pond. "I think you do remember Draco wanted to be a Healer after the War concludes," he said, voicing out the most coveted wish of his predecessor. "I always knew I wanted to be a doctor when I grow up. I think…" His voice faltered, eyes turning dark with the memories of his past life, and continued, "A lot of people died in m - _Draco_ 's hands and I remembered him wishing that if there were a next life, he wanted to save people instead."

Rory sadly looked at the doctor, memories of Draco Malfoy and his past running through her mind's eye. She now recognised the strange room they always frequented, the Room of Requirement, and it had somehow become their refuge during the darkest times of their life.

"Look at you, though," he then said, quirking a small smile, "an owner of a quaint bookshop in London. Hermione would have been thrilled."

His eyes glazed a little at the mention of her past life, and felt a jolt of unnamed emotion in her heart. "Yeah," she croaked, eyes shifting to the hands on her lap. "It's not doing well, mind you, what with the emergence of gadgets and stuff, but I love it and I wouldn't trade it for the world."

He made a sound behind his throat, and silence befell once more.

Rory felt terribly confused of her past life, her situation, and of _Dr. Blythe..._ despite getting answers, she didn't know what to do next. "So what now?" she awkwardly asked, playing with a loose thread on her red sweater.

Dr. Blythe contemplated for a while, before giving a half-hearted shrug. "To be honest, I also don't know what to do with this new information," he confessed.

"Would you like to have some coffee with me this weekend?" she blurted out before she could stop herself. A blush crept onto her cheeks and refused to subside. Rory cursed her blabbering mouth internally and prayed that Dr. Blythe wouldn't make fun of her.

"I thought I was a weirdo?" he shot back, highly amused at her fidgeting.

Rory lightly scowled at him. "You have to admit your lame pick-up line is a little creepy," she said. "And you kept on popping out of nowhere, it's unnerving. You do know that the crime rate in London is shooting up and a defenseless girl like me should always be prepared."

He snorted. "I doubt you are defenseless," he retorted. "Hermione was terribly powerful, even I must admit that."

He had that stupid glazed look on his face once again and she couldn't help but say, "I'm not Hermione."

Dr. Blythe looked shocked with her statement. "Yes, you are," he rebutted. "I mean, she was _you_ in the past life."

Rory ran a frustrated hand through her curls. "I know, I know," she quickly corrected. "What I meant was, I am _Rory Jones_ in the present and well, Hermione is a thing of the past and…" She left out a huff, unable to find the words that would explain everything to him properly.

He eyed her strangely and she felt uncomfortable. "If you say so, Rory," he said, then proceeded to show that little smile that made her heart beat a tad too quickly. "So coffee next weekend?"

She nodded her head then jumped onto her feet. "I better get going," Rory said. "I'm sure you are busy, Dr. Blythe."

"Call me Tom," he said as he stood up from the bench. "Although I love being a doctor, hearing my title outside my dutyl sometimes stresses me out." Dr. Blythe - _Tom_ \- stretched out his right hand and grinned. "It's nice to meet you, Aurora Jones."

Rory grasped his hand and gave it a shake. "If you call me 'Aurora' once more, I'll kill you," she said, complete with a sweet smile.

Tom merely guffawed.

* * *

The weekend coffee shop meeting turned into another, then there were meals during lunch time, and then dinner. Tom often dropped by her bookstore before she closed for the day. Jonathan constantly complained to Rory that the man was trying to steal her from him, which Rory merely brushed off with a nervous little laugh.

They were currently sipping their coffees in the usual shop, and Rory couldn't help but dart curious looks at the doctor across from her.

There were consecutive days when she wouldn't be able to see him. Based from Jonathan's stories and Tom's, the doctor was famously competent in his field and had been sought out often. Rory never understood the resilience of doctors, and had silently thanked anyone she saw wearing a white, long coat with stethoscopes slung over their neck for working so hard.

On days when they were together, Rory's feelings grew and she hated herself for it. Sometimes, she just thought she was fancying herself into thinking that her Hermione made his Draco promise that when they see each other, they would love each other openly, without any restraints and prosecutions. It was terribly romantic, especially for an avid bookworm like her.

But then, there were times when Dr. Blythe would do and say things she very well knew Draco Malfoy would never do or say. Both of them were bad in communicating with people, always hiding their feelings and wearing that ridiculous indifferent masks of theirs. But then, Dr. Blythe was freer, _more relax_ , and loved his job quite a lot. Memories of a gaunt Draco, haunted by a burdensome task as a Death Eater, came into mind and Tom didn't look too much like the Draco she knew.

Those were the traits Rory knew she came to like in the doctor.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, snapping her off her musings.

She blushed and looked away. "Err… I was just thinking what's happening in the Wizarding World now," she quickly excused. "You know, with Voldemort's reign of terror or something like that."

"You don't know that," Dr. Blythe shot back. "For all we know, by some miracle, the Light Side was able to defeat him and shower the Wizarding World with the peace they always coveted."

"I just hope we have some way of knowing what is happening there right now," she said, genuinely feeling concern for the place she once called home.

Tom was about to say something, then held himself back. Instead, a huge grin appeared on his face and grabbed her hand. Rory felt her heart jump to her throat, but he did not seem to notice and held on tighter. "I have an idea," he said, then proceeded to pull her onto her feet.

"Wait," she called. "Where are we going?"

He looked at her once more, the smile still in place. "You'll see."

* * *

"Okay, so what am I looking at?" Rory asked, eyeing the broken-down old shop with suspicion. She allowed her eyes to wander around Charing Cross Road, noting the bustling people and hurtling automobiles.

Tom wildly gestured at the shop. "Don't you remember?" he asked. "This is the _Leaky Cauldron_. You know, the entrance to _Diagon Alley_."

Rory's eyes widened at recognising the name and looked back at the dilapidated shop. "Wait," she breathed out, "it's _broken_?" She remembered Tom, the strange but kind bar owner, and the weird menu of the place.

"As the brightest witch of her age, you are terribly daft as a muggle," he shot back, with no trace of malice in his voice.

She still felt slightly affronted and glared.

"This is the Leaky Cauldron," he quickly added, realising his mistake. "As Muggles, we are made to believe that this is just a broken-down shop. But maybe if we entered - "

"Hey, hey, not so fast!" she exclaimed, clutching onto his arm tightly to stop him from marching on. When he questioningly looked at her, she rolled her eyes, "This place is swarming with wizards and witches alike. It will look suspicious if two Muggles entered, you know. And we're _obviously_ Muggle; I'm sure they placed some alarm or something to warn the owner."

Tom knitted his eyebrows. "Perhaps a disguise?" he suggested. "I knew a place selling different kinds of costumes. We may find some robes that can pass as wizardly."

"You don't understand," Rory retorted. "It's too risky. If we get caught, they'll Obliviate us and we might forget about the things we're starting to remember now."

He digested her words, before slumping in defeat. "You're right," he said with a frown. "It's too risky. Let's just go home."

Tom looked dejected and Rory wanted to cheer him up. As another idea dawned, her eyes widened and she turned to him immediately. "Wait!" she exclaimed, a huge smile on her face. "What is the date today?"

He looked suspiciously at her, but answered her nonetheless, "September first."

"Yes, yes!" she said, excitedly looking at her watch. "If we get to King's Cross before 11 o'clock, we may be able to catch a glimpse of the new first years. I mean, do you remember those _trunks_? They're quite odd and I could remember Hermione's parents commenting on how confusing it is to know that there is a Platform 9 3/4 when they're Muggle but couldn't do something about it."

His eyes brightened in anticipation. "Come on then," he asked, clutching onto her hand and hurriedly hailing a taxi.

Rory eyed his back with a stupid smile on her face. His hand was lovely and she hoped he wouldn't let go soon.

* * *

As predicted, King's Cross was packed with incoming first year students with their strange trunks and even questionable pets. Most parents flanked their sides, excitedly babbling against the ears of their children about the great wonders they could expect from Hogwarts.

Rory's eyes swept around, highly amused that despite the strange spectacle, the Muggles seemed oblivious of the long line towards a platform between nine and ten. Her eyes widened a little when she saw a small family disappearing into the barrier. But then, her mind felt a little fuzzy, and after blinking a few times, she felt confused why she was staring at the barrier in the first place.

"It's bewitched to make Muggles confounded," Tom whispered against her ear, his warm breath sending shivers through her spine.

"How come you don't look confounded?" she shot back, pointedly ignoring the place where she knew Platform 9 3/4 to save herself from any further confusion.

The doctor merely shrugged his shoulders, before dragging her somewhere at the end of the line. Before Rory could ask what he was planning to do, he tapped the shoulder of a kind, middle-aged woman in front of them. A pale, frightened, dark-haired boy stood beside her, and he looked at the two of them with wide eyes.

"Yes, may I help you?" the woman asked, her eyes crinkling as she smiled warmly at the two.

"Terribly sorry to bother you, ma'am," Tom smoothly said. "But, is this where we have line up to get to Platform 9 3/4?"

The woman's smile wavered a little, eyes narrowing a bit as she looked at them in suspicion.

"You see, we're Muggles," Rory hastily added. Impulsively, she hooked her arm with Tom's and even leaned in a bit to perfect the disguise. "And our daughter is just about to start her first year in Hogwarts. I'm correct in saying she's… err… Muggle-born?"

The middle-aged woman's eyes brightened once more, and she looked at the young, pretend couple with newfound interest. "Muggles you say, eh?" she said. "I've always been curious about you lot."

Both Rory and Tom forced a laugh from their mouths.

"I used to take up Muggle Studies when I was in Hogwarts myself," she continued. "Is it really true rubber duckies are an integral part of a bath? I've always been terribly fascinated in them myself, and I've wanted to own one ever since I came to know them."

At the corner of her eyes, Rory saw how Tom had to hold back a wide grin, and she had to stab him with her pointy elbow. He scowled and glared at her, but she completely ignored him, and instead replied to the woman, "I do believe they make baths interesting. Sadly, though, they easily get drowned in the bathtub. You see, they're horribly endangered, those poor things."

Tom's eyes widened at her blatant lie, but the woman had a hand to her heart and looked genuinely concerned.

"Oh, those poor things," she echoed, and Tom had to exert some extra effort not to burst into laughter.

The line started to move, and the woman fussed over her son for a bit.

"Nervous, are you?" Rory asked, smiling kindly at the young boy. He merely nodded his head and his mother laughed.

"I don't know why he's suddenly like this," she confessed. "He had been yammering on and on about wanting to start studying in Hogwarts and he almost had a heart attack when his letter arrived on his eleventh birthday."

Rory smiled, remembering Hermione's emotions and thoughts when a strange owl came into their house on her eleventh birthday, stating that she got accepted in a strange, magical school.

"He always wanted to meet Headmaster Potter and get an autograph for his Chocolate Frog Card and - "

"I'm sorry, _who_?" Tom demanded, while Rory paled with shock.

The woman looked confused. "Headmaster Potter? Harry Potter?" she repeated, and looked at the pretend couple in surprise when they both released a huge gasp. Then, the woman smiled and continued, "Oh, maybe you've heard of him. He was The-Boy-Who-Lived who defeated Voldemort in the Second Wizarding War some decades ago. He'd been the Headmaster for, I think, thirty years? I'm not quite sure."

"I-I thought he died," Rory weakly inquired. She saw a flashback of how Harry Potter fell upon being hit by Voldemort's Killing Spell.

"What she meant to say was, didn't he die by Voldemort's hands during the Second Wizarding War?" Tom quickly asked, shooting a strange look at Rory.

"Oh, dear me," the older woman replied, hand over her heart. "The Wizarding World would have been a dark, bleak place if Voldemort won, wouldn't it? But yes, for a moment Harry Potter died, but history books said it was the Horcrux in him that Voldemort killed. He was able to defeat him in the end." A sad smile then appeared on her face. "I cannot say the same thing about his best friend, that Hermione Granger."

Rory stiffened and Tom squeezed her arm in reassurance.

"My grandmum used to be in the same year with them lot, Sorted herself into Hufflepuff," she narrated. "She said Hermione Granger was the 'brightest witch of her age'. It was such a shame she died."

Rory couldn't understand the tears that pricked her eyes.

"Oh, well, it's been years, and I tell you, Muggle-borns have been showing some great potential in Hogwarts!" she said, oblivious to the somber looks on their face. "Speaking of which, where is _your_ daughter? It's almost her turn to pass through the barrier."

"Right," Tom said, a small smile on his face. "My daughter is nervous in going to Hogwarts, too and had an upset stomach since this morning. I think she's still in the loo, so if you'll excuse us…"

Tom then proceeded to drag Rory away from the line, and away from the general vicinity of the curious eyes of the woman they just talked to.

"Where are we going?" Rory asked, craning her neck to look at the very short line to Platform 9 3/4. "It is almost our turn."

Tom sighed and rolled his eyes. "The barrier won't allow us to enter anyway," he said. "We're bloody Muggles. Its magic won't work on us."

Rory felt mildly disappointed and shakily collapsed on the bench just beside them. "Harry's alive," she said in a whisper, the tears she had felt forming now streaming down from her face. "But… but I saw him die." She didn't bother correcting that it was _Hermione_ who saw him die, too shocked with the news that the best friend of her past reincarnation was alive.

"It's good news, isn't it?" Tom asked, sidling on the bench beside her. "This means the Light Side did won and had been at peace for decades." He made a face and looked down beside her. "If Potter's Headmaster, I can't help but picture him as a younger version of Dumbledore. It's disconcerting."

Rory, despite her tears, chuckled. "Harry always looked up to Dumbledore," she said. "I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't ditch a growing beard."

Tom looked horrified, prompting her to laugh louder. The tears hadn't abated, though, and Rory shakily brushed them away.

"Are you okay?" he worriedly asked.

She weakly grinned and sadly shook her head no. "I… maybe Hermione shouldn't have asked Draco to kill her," she softly replied. "Maybe, if they waited a little more, they'd realise that Harry Potter was still alive and able to defeat a mortal Voldemort. Then, perhaps, their love story wouldn't be such a sad tragedy."

"Then, we won't even exist," Tom pointed out. "Or maybe we will still be born, but not as the future reincarnations of Draco and Hermione." He gave her a strange look, before looking straight ahead. "Perhaps, I wouldn't approach you that one, Sunday afternoon, uttering that stupid, lame pick-up line of mine."

Rory strangely felt terrified of not meeting Tom in this life time. He had grown onto her, and she started to acknowledge that she had feelings for this doctor. A life without him seemed boring and _wrong_.

"But hey, they got their wish now, yeah?" Tom continued, a small smile on his face. "To live in a world where they don't have to hide behind their prejudices and sides. To live in a world where they don't have to be labelled as a Pureblood or a Muggle-born."

She smiled at him and nodded. Perhaps, having to die and not live alongside with the people Hermione used to love should really happen. Her past self had been exhausted of life at such a very young age. To be reborn as her, as Aurora Jones, might have been for the best.

"Oh, wow, look at the time," he said, already standing from the bench.

"You still have some work to do?" Rory asked, slightly disappointed he was already leaving.

He looked at her in amusement, prompting her to blush. Apparently, he detected the disappointment in her voice. "If you haven't noticed, Rory Jones, I'm a bloody doctor. I have some lives to save." He gave her a charming grin and continued, "Besides, the nurses were already gossiping with each other, wondering who the pretty, curly brunette Dr. Blythe is always seen with."

Her cheeks reddened more with the offhanded compliment.

"Now that we are reassured that the Wizarding World is a better place now, is it safe to assume that we will be returning to our normal lives?" he asked. "Although I sure as hell know being a wizard is bloody amazing, I'm quite satisfied in being a doctor right now."

Rory lifted an eyebrow and grinned. "What's this? Draco Malfoy's reincarnation thinking not having magic is okay?" she asked, acting in surprise, prompting him to roll his eyes.

"Just like what you've said, I'm not Draco," he replied. "I'm Dr. Tom Blythe. He's a… well… a thing of the past and don't we have a famous adage saying we should live in the moment?"

Strangely, that made her heart flutter a tad bit.

* * *

_"_ _Granger, what are you doing?"_

 _"_ _Shh," she said, a soft smile on her face as she pulled him at the middle of the Room of Requirement. Closing her eyes, she wished for a bigger space. When she opened her eyes, the couches were against the walls and there was a wider space for them to dance onto._

_The Room of Requirement was a clever thing, and before she could even request for some music, soft tunes already resounded in the whole room. Rory - or Hermione - recognising the song, hummed it under her breath and clutched Tom's - or Draco's - hands._

_"_ _May I have this dance?" she cheekily asked, prompting him to roll his eyes at her antics. She could detect a small smile on his face, though, and it made her heart madly flutter._

 _"_ _Sometimes, I wonder why I put up with you," he said, sighing, but indulged her nonetheless. He was quite graceful and easily took the lead, even twirling her around when she least expected it._ Of course _, as a Pureblood aristocrat, she knew he had to have dance lessons for future functions and balls._

 _"_ _I'm quite sure it's because you love me," she then replied. This time, he allowed himself to smile. It always made her feel special, for him to reserve such a rare expression for only her to see._

_He brushed a stray curl against her face and gently tucked it behind her ear. "Your mane's attacking me, Granger," he cajoled. Hermione playfully hit him on the chest and triumphantly grinned when he scowled. "You do realise you hit like a man, yeah?"_

_She pinched his nose as his scowl darkened. "This little bugger must have remembered my fist," she teased, laughingly removing her fingers when he batted them away. Instead of completely retrieving her hand, however, she placed it against his cheek and fondly rubbed her thumb against it. "My offer still stands, Draco."_

_Judging from the way his eyes hardened, he figured out what she was talking about. "Way to ruin the moment, Hermione," he snapped, but she was steadfast._

_"_ _I meant it," she said, as they completely stopped dancing now and merely stared at each other. "I can vouch for you, for your loyalty."_

 _"_ _I am loyal to_ you _," he drawled back. "Not to Dumbledore or your beloved Potter."_

_She sighed and placed her other hand on his cheek to cradle his face. "Let me protect you, Draco," she said. "I… It's hard for me to know you sneak around at night to attend your blasted meetings. It's hard for me to see you what being a Death Eater does to you."_

_He pulled her hands and glared. "We've talked about this,_ _and you know that my answer will never change," he bit back._

_Hermione sadly looked at him and reached out for him. Thankfully, he did not pull away this time and even closed his eyes when she lightly kissed his lips. "I love you," she said, heart wrenching from their situation and the roles they were forced to play in this damnable War._

_"I told you that you shouldn't," he said, but his eyes hand soften with the feelings he held for this particular brunette._

_"And I told you I still would have," she shot back._

_Instead of answering, he completely pulled her flush against his body and captured her lips once more._

* * *

"What has gotten into you?" Jonathan asked, peering at her glazed look and red cheeks.

Embarrassed at being caught, Rory blushed redder. "Nothing, Jonathan, go back to work," she dismissed. Her employee looked at her strangely before sighing and returning to putting the scattered books in their proper bookshelves.

Rory softly groaned and hid her face behind her hands, willing her warm cheeks to cool down. The dream she had last night had been somewhat an unwelcome memory, especially when it ended with their lips locked. It didn't help that she had been daydreaming about Dr. Blythe and his lips for quite a while now.

"Is there something going on between you and Dr. Blythe?" Jonathan asked, snapping her off from her thoughts.

Her eyes widened. "W-what in the world do you mean?" she inquired, refusing to meet his eyes. "We're just, well, _friends_."

Jonathan pointedly looked at her and shook his head. "You're hopeless, Rory," he said. "You always wear your heart in your sleeves and it's painfully obvious whatever you are feeling right now."

"That's not true!" she hollered back.

"Yes, it is. Watch." The bell jingled, announcing a newcomer, and Jonathan said, "Hello, Dr. Blythe. Fancy seeing you here."

Rory perked up and looked at the door, a huge, goofy smile on her face. Instead of seeing Dr. Blythe, however, there was a man in a business suit, who was looking at them with a confused look on his face.

"Blimey, Jonathan," Rory said, and glared at the teenager upon realising what he was trying to do.

" _See_ ," he said. Then, he wore a ridiculous grin on his face, eyes twinkling and bright. He gestured at his face, and continued, "You look like this, Rory. _All the time_ when he's here. It's sickening, really."

She knew it was futile to deny it and merely slumped on her seat. "Oh, Jonathan, what am I going to do?" she asked him dejectedly.

"Have you told him how you feel?" he asked. "You're bloody brilliant and beautiful, Rory. If he rejects you, my arms will be open and waiting."

"It's… it's not that easy," she lamely replied. "Everything's terribly complicated between us." Rory was quite sure Tom was still deeply enamoured with Hermione Granger. Although she used to be Hermione, she was Rory now, and in a way, she was definitely different from her.

Scowling, she glared at no one and thought it was mighty unfair she had to be jealous with her past self. Rory knew she liked him as Tom, and although she knew the emotions she sometimes felt were of Hermione's, she now always saw him as Dr. Tom Blythe.

The bell jingled once more and she heard Jonathan say, "Hello, Dr. Blythe. Fancy seeing you here."

"I won't fall for that this time, Jonathan," she said, proud of herself. But then, when she saw that Tom was really standing in front of her counter and not some random stranger, she blushed. She glared at the auburn-haired teenager, who was trying his best to stifle his chuckle.

"Is there something I've missed?" Tom asked, looking at the two with mild amusement.

"Nothing that concerns you," she flippantly said. "What are you doing here?"

Tom smiled and pocketed his hand. "My duty just ended," he explained. "Do you want to have dinner with me?"

Her heart skipped a beat at his offer, prompting her to internally groan. _'This is so unfair,'_ a voice wailed inside her mind and she had to bite her lip from voicing out her indignation.

The doctor had mistaken the conflict on her face as hesitation, and quickly added, "I can wait for you until you closed your shop." He looked nervous for some strange reason, and Rory was confused.

"Don't worry about the bookshop, Rory," Jonathan said. "I can close it up for you."

She felt deep gratitude for her employee and had taken all of her willpower not to give him a hug. "You can slip the bookstore key through my door," she said. Then, directed to Tom, she said, "Wait here. I'll just get my things."

* * *

The dinner was a pleasant one and Rory already felt full. She couldn't deny his offer of a cone of ice cream, however, as he walked her home. She sat on a park bench as she waited for him.

Rory tried her very best not to fidget nervously. She had her fair share of men in the past and had some quite experience. She knew Tom was different, though, and it had frustrated her beyond reason. Perhaps, if her past self wasn't entangled with his past self, things would be easier for her.

Truthfully, she was terrified. Hermione Granger was a bloody powerful, talented witch, and had been a champion of the poor and downtrodden. She was a War Heroine, for crying out loud, and Rory couldn't help but compare herself. Here was she, a humble owner of a small bookstore, and that was it.

If Tom realised she couldn't live up to Hermione's legacy, he'd be seriously disappointed and Rory couldn't handle that. Better to hide her true feelings than make a fool out of herself, really.

"You've been zoning out today," Tom said, disturbing her from her thoughts.

Rory thanked the darkness for he didn't notice the redness on her cheek. Instead, she graciously accepted the cone of ice cream and took a lick from it. The taste of strawberry teased her tongue, and she somehow felt better. "Thanks," she said, pertaining to the ice cream, and then sheepishly smiled, "And I just have some things to think about."

"Is there a problem in your bookstore?" he asked, truly worried, and Rory shook her head.

"Everything is fine," she lied. "I just have a lot of things in mind."

He still looked unconvinced but dropped it nonetheless. "Actually, I asked you for dinner because I have something to tell you," he said.

When she questioningly looked at him, he continued, "I might not be able to see you for two weeks." He sadly smiled at her. "Our department organised a conference in Spain and I have to go." He chuckled and shook his head. "I guess I'll terribly miss you, so I wanted your face to be the last thing I see before I leave."

Heart in throat, ice cream on hand, Rory did not know what came into her. She leaned closer, gave him a kiss, and pulled back. Wide eyed, she realised what she had done and gasped. "I-I'm sorry."

Tom was dumbfounded, his high cheekbones brushed with light pink. He seemed to neglect the fact that his ice cream was melting, and continued to look at her in surprise and wonder.

"I-I don't know what has gotten into me and I - "

Her words were cut off when his lips were upon hers once more. This time, instead of a shy, impulsive peck, the kiss was longer and deeper and breathtaking. Rory was panting by the time his lips left hers. She was the one sporting a dumbfounded look on her face, and Tom looked just downright triumphant.

"I'm not Hermione," she suddenly blurted out, eyes crazed with despair and anticipation. Her heart felt like it would burst any minute now. Tom looked genuinely confused, and she decided to expound, "I-I know how great Hermione was in the past, but I-I'm Rory, and I don't think I can live up to your expectations."

"What the bloody hell do you mean?" he demanded, still deeply confused.

Rory felt like crying. "I'm not some hardened War Heroine, selflessly willing to sacrifice herself for the greater good," she continued, voice already thick with emotion. "I know how you feel about Hermione and I think… I…" She looked away as a tear trickled down. "I don't want you to feel disappointed I can never be her. It is stupid enough for me to even fall in love with you, because you'll always see me as Hermione. _Never_ Rory."

Silence befell and Rory stifled her sniffles. Scowling, she threw her melted ice cream in the rubbish bin and haphazardly wiped her face. She felt mortified and devastated; she wanted to go home and not see him for two weeks to gather herself once more and joke to him to forget everything she had stupidly blubbered about.

"Gods, Rory," he then said. Affronted, she glared at him, noting how he was smiling too widely, laughing too handsomely, and wanted to smack him just to erase that ridiculous expression on her face.

And then, with his sticky fingers, he placed his hand against her cheek and held it with such gentleness. "You're bloody brilliant," he said, wiping her tears away. "You're kind and good. Blimey, that tongue of yours could slice a man's heart into two. Hermione Granger will be proud you're her future self."

She blushed and tried to pull him away, but he held onto her tighter.

"I must confess, Draco's emotions for Hermione sometimes overwhelmed my being," he said. "There were moments when I wanted to impulsively kiss you just because, but I knew it was the Draco in me acting. And I didn't want that, because I came to really like you Rory Jones, and not because you were Hermione Granger in the past."

Her eyes widened at his confession, and she was at loss of what to do or say.

"I'm sorry, this may sound really weird," he then said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. It was oddly reminiscent of Draco's actions in her dream last night, and it made her heart skip a beat. "But I think I still love you in the present."

Rory released a ridiculous laugh and shook her head. "It's still a lame pick-up line, Tom Blythe," she shot back.

"You know how I'm terrible with those," he said, now standing up from the bench and throwing the neglected ice cream away. He then briefly looked at his watch, then grinned. "Come," he said, stretching out his right hand, "I only have five more hours before I'm expected to show myself in the airport."

"Where are we going?" Rory inquired, grasping tightly onto his hand. Secretly, she still thought his hand was lovely.

"Somewhere, anywhere," he said, shifting his hand so he could lace his fingers with hers. "There isn't a war stopping us anymore. We have all the time in the world."

Rory grinned and followed him, hoping for a better future, and silently thanking Draco and Hermione for bringing them together. Like what Tom had said, they had all the time in the world and no war, no conflict, no tragedy, would ever come between them anymore.

* * *

**FIN**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year everyone! I hope you liked this one-shot. If you spotted some grammatical errors, I apologize. This isn't Beta-ed.


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